


End Times for Sale

by Honu



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23368789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honu/pseuds/Honu
Summary: April must fend for herself against diabolical beasties.





	End Times for Sale

The world was still solid and reliable on that warm Saturday morning in July.  
  
Mail in hand, April stepped out of the shop, propping the front door open with a sandaled foot. She was reaching for the mailbox when she spotted the cardboard box leaning against the brick wall.  
  
Damn. More crap.  
  
Every so often, some illiterate ass mistook her antique store for one of those low-end thrift shops down the street and dumped their unwanted junk on her doorstep. April sighed and deposited the outgoing mail, which consisted of one slightly overdue rent check and one more-or-less on time birthday card to her mother. She walked down the single stone step, then turned to inspect the new find. The box, an overlarge nondescript shade of brown, was nearly overflowing from its contents, most of it worthless, by the look of it: broken action figures, a metallic object she couldn’t immediately identity, and a chipped coffee mug with _Camp Crystal Lake Counselor_ emblazoned in garish red font on the front. Grumbling, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and hefted the box against her hip. She’d toss it in the dumpster later.  
  
Back inside, she locked the door behind her. It was still thirty minutes until 2ND Time Around opened. But first, coffee. Yawning, she dropped the box onto the L-shaped glass counter and started towards her upstairs apartment, her mind rehashing once more the why-bothers of keeping her late father’s money pit open. Sentimentality didn’t pay the bills. Her overdrawn checking account was a testament to that.  
  
She sighed and thought briefly about asking Charles for her old job back at the station. And just as quickly thought better of it. That asshole threw her under the bus on her city hall corruption report to appease the C-suite blowhards. He never admitted to it, but she knew. And she’d made damn well sure _he_ knew she knew it, too. Nope, she conceded, approaching the staircase at the back of the store, that bridge was burned.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the box move. She stopped and looked over. It lay motionless on the glass top. Must’ve been the contents settling, she thought.  
  
It wobbled.  
  
She flinched.  
  
A mole-like, tubular face poked out over the edge. Furless, with jaundiced eyes on short stalks that jutted out over its head like a lobster.  
  
It stared at her. She stared back at it.  
  
It bared its many-pointed teeth.  
  
“Fuck!” April gasped. The thing catapulted out, tipping the box over and dumping its contents all over the counter. The creature rushed straight at her, razor-tipped claws clicking on the glass, teeth snapping at the air. Both her cell and a stack of _Antique Trader_ magazines toppled in its wake, spilling over the edge like a glossy tidal wave.  
  
April staggered backward, hands flailing at the air. The beast didn’t stop at the counter’s end but launched off Superman-style, hit the linoleum floor with a torpid thump, and galloped towards April’s feet.  
  
On instinct, she leapt out of its path. The thing skidded briefly against the slick surface, changed course, and kept coming. April hurled herself sideways, narrowly avoiding its gnashing teeth. She stumbled against a large armoire. Righting herself, she looked up at it, did some quick mental math, taking into account the height to death ratio, then shimmied up its sturdy wooden shelves and onto the flat top. She dropped to her knees and peered over the edge.  
  
And stared wide-eyed in horror as the unnamable thing rushed forward.  
  
What the fuck was it?  
  
Not a mole, not really. Its bulbous head gave the appearance of one, all right, but that’s where all semblance ended. The overlarge cranium rested on a spindly neck that seemed barely able to support the weight. Its body, a bloated cylinder the color of puss, tapered to a barbed tail that whipped back and forth like an especially irate cat. And those _teeth_. April grimaced. Hundreds of serrated A-shaped points crammed into a mouth too big for its body. April shuddered and gripped the edges of the armoire. She’d seen some crazy shit in her days, but this bizarre nightmare took the cake.  
  
At the foot of the cabinet, the creature dug its claws into the polished wood and started to climb. Its sharp talons left deep grooves in the grain.  
  
April flared. “That’s on sale!” She tore a sandal off her foot and slammed it down against the beast. The dirty sole slapped against the thing’s flank, but didn’t dislodge it. The creature kept on coming, its teeth making maddening clicking sounds that reminded her of those plastic chattering teeth she had as a kid.  
  
April frantically searched for an escape. The front door was a good ten feet and an eternity away. She looked back down and saw the mole-thing coming perilously close. She weighed her chances, then pulled off her other sandal and loosed it at the creature. She simultaneously sprang from the armoire, landed in a wobbly crouch, and bolted for the door. Glancing back as she ran away, she saw the beast drop to the floor. The shoe was in its mouth and it was shaking it back and forth like a demented terrier.  
  
She was two feet from the door. Then one. Then—  
  
She jerked to a halt.  
  
A second monster was blocking the exit. April choked down a startled scream and stepped back. Twice the size as the first, it crouched menacingly between her and the door, its predatory gaze tracking her every move. April slowly backed up, one foot behind the other, until the sharp edge of the counter dug into her spine and she could go no further.  
  
A sound to her right caught her attention. Whirling around, she spotted the smaller creature advancing. It had forgone its rubberized meal and was eyeing her hungrily.  
  
Prey, she thought, her eyes ping-ponging back and forth between the two monstrosities. I’m the prey. Panic fluttered in her stomach. She reached blindly behind her, fingers groping frantically across the glass surface for a weapon. Receipts, a half-chewed pencil. Dammit. Her hand brushed against a broom handle. A flimsy weapon but better than nothing. She grabbed it like a lifeline, swung it around, handle side down, and turned to face the beasts.  
  
The larger one lowered its head and hissed. It took a threatening step forward. April raised the broom in both hands and whacked it against the floor.  
  
“Back off!” she yelled. It halted but didn’t retreat. Instead, it lifted its head at her as if sniffing the air, recalibrating its next move.  
  
Holding the broom out like a jousting stick in one hand, she reached down with the other, quickly pawed through the fallen magazines at her feet and scooped up the cell phone. She jabbed her password in and rapidly thumbed through the numbers until she found it.  
  
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, holding the phone against her ear while warily watching the beasts take up positions on either side of her.  
  
“Hey, this is Donny—” 

“Donny! Oh, thank god. It’s April, I need—”

“Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Fuck!” April screamed. 

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “Donny, guys, I need you here now! There’s these, these _things_.” 

The smaller beast charged.  
  
She dropped the phone and whipped the broom handle down with both hands, narrowly missing its hide. The creature scooted out of range, circled back, and came back at her. April twisted around and back-stepped, barely avoiding its teeth. In her peripheral vision she saw the other one closing in on her left.  
  
Sensing victory, they quickly surrounded her. April looked everywhere at once and saw only one way out.  
  
Willing herself not to move, she stood her ground and waited until they were less than a foot away, then planted the end of the broom handle against the floor and catapulted herself up and over the counter. Landing unsteadily on her feet, she turned and raised the broom overhead like an ax.  
  
Immediately the smaller creature scurried around the counter, blocking the narrow exit. There it crouched, legs coiled, its tail an angrily pendulum. Trapped in the cramped space between the counter and the back wall, April steeled herself for the charge. As if reading her mind, the beast took a tentative half-step forward, paused, then abruptly turned sideways and sprang off the wall. It flew at her, fangs bared. April shrunk back and raised the broom up to block, catching the thing in midair by its teeth. The creature’s jaws instantly clamped down, splintering the plastic pole like a matchstick.  
  
The force of the impact knocked her off her feet and she tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Her flailing feet punted the beast over her head, its mace-like tail just missing her face. It crashed against the old Hallwood register with an outraged squawk and slid out of sight. Not daring to look behind her, April scrambled to her feet and sprinted towards the narrow opening.  
  
She was almost fast enough.  
  
She felt a sudden small tug on her jeans and yelped. She looked down and saw the thing hanging by its claws near her shin. She flung herself backward, hands beating at her legs. But the beast merely held on tighter before thrusting out its thin neck and chomping down on the meaty part of her palm.  
  
April screamed.  
  
She jerked her arm up, trying to shake it off. The monster instead darted up her arm, its sharp claws gouging her flesh. She swiped at it with her other hand but it held fast and bit down again on the soft skin under her forearm. Pain like white lightning flashed across her vision. April cried out and crashed against the wall, hitting it so hard that the air exploded out of her lungs.  
  
The creature pressed its advantage and scampered up her shoulder. Its teeth gnashed at her eyes. April reached out and grabbed it around the middle of its fleshy back, digging her fingers into its corpse-like skin. Fear and anger gave her inhuman strength and she finally managed to pry the monster loose, taking a small chunk of her own flesh with it. A torrent of blood poured down her arm, instantly soaking her shirt. She let out a triumphant shriek and flung the beast across the store. It sailed skyward in an elliptical arc and smashed against the far wall with a thud, emitting a small noise not unlike a child’s squeak toy.  
  
April didn’t wait to see what happened next. She turned and bolted up the back stairs to the apartment, her knees pumping hard up the concrete steps. A sharp right brought her to the front door. She wrenched it open and burst into her living room, then whirled around and slammed the door shut. Barely a second later, a heavy thump rattled the wooden frame. She put her shoulder against the door and hastily threw all three locks.  
  
An eerie silence abruptly followed.  
  
She took a nervous step back, cradling her injured arm against her chest, and stared at the door.  
  
Now what? Her phone was downstairs, her apartment three stories up with a broken fire escape, and who knew where the guys were. April spun herself in a tight little circle. She didn’t know what to do. She ran a hand through her tangled hair and stared up at the popcorn ceiling as if the answer could be found there. “Okay, okay, pull yourself together,” she told the light fixture above her head.  
  
She had to be strong.  
  
She had to kill them.  
  
But how? Caught in a black cloud of self-doubt, she wondered if she’d ever get out alive.  
  
That’s when she spotted it. Her father’s old double barrel shotgun. April raced over to the mantel, grabbed it up and opened the barrel.  
  
Bullets! She turned and dashed down the hallway to her bedroom. Skirting around the rumpled bed, she reached the dresser and yanked the top drawer open. “Dammit, where are they?” A flurry of socks, bras and underwear went flying.  
  
“Ha!” she grasped the green and white box of ammunition. And froze. Her ears picked up a faint crunching sound down the hall.  
  
What the hell was that? She straightened sharply, listening with her entire body. There it was again. A soft but insistent chewing.  
  
It’s eating right through the door!  
  
“Shit, shit, shit,” she grabbed a handful of shells and shoved one into the first chamber. Her hands were shaking and slick with blood, and it took two attempts to get the second bullet in. She hastily pocketed the rest and slammed the break home.  
  
April turned on wooden legs and inched back out into the hallway. Struggling to hear over the jackhammering of her heart, she slunk down the corridor. The gun felt heavy and reassuring in her hands, and she gripped it tightly. On muffled feet she stepped past the photographs that hung on the walls, those frozen moments of saner times.  
  
The chewing sounds were getting louder, more insistent. Would the door hold? She didn’t know, but there was no turning back now. She forced her limbs to move, shoving aside the frantic animal part of her mind that was screaming at her to run and never stop running until even her shadow couldn’t find her. Nerves humming with adrenaline, she held the gun tighter and did her best to ignore the sharp throbs of pain that raced up and down her wounded arm.  
  
She tiptoed into the living room, just in time to see the smaller beast squirm through a fist-sized hole in the door.  
  
Stomach tight with fear, April clamped the stock against her side. “You want some of this?!” The monster looked up at her and hissed. She swung the muzzle towards the thing and thumbed back both hammers. She aimed at the creature’s head and pulled the trigger. The shotgun lurched in her hands and a sudden, ear-shattering concussion reverberated through the room. The middle of the door exploded in a spray of plaster and woodchips. So did the monster. A plume of blood the color of rusted metal splattered across the adjacent walls.  
  
April lowered the gun. “Gotcha, you little bastard.” She exhaled shakily.  
  
The second creature poked its head around the shattered remains of the door.  
  
April grinned a cold smile and raised the gun. “Come at me, bitch.” She took a bead on the beast’s swiveling head and pulled the trigger. The hammer clicked.  
  
What the—?  
  
She cocked it again, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The hammer snapped down. The shotgun didn’t fire.  
  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she spat. The mole-thing charged into the room, a ghostly shape streaking across the beige carpet. Its movements were erratic and difficult to anticipate. It veered right, faked left, then came straight on. April hurled the useless gun at the beast. It missed by a mile.  
  
She peddled backward, nearly tripping over her own feet, but managed to right herself at the last second and fled into the adjoining bathroom. She spun around and slammed the door shut behind her. An instant later, she flinched as the thing struck the other side. Breathless, she turned the lock and flattened her body against the door.  
  
Then come the crunching sounds. Splintering sounds. She pictured the quasi-mole on the other side, its pointed teeth ripping out slivers of wood.  
  
“Bastard!” she yelled and kicked the door.  
  
This was it. She was going to die.  
  
Futility flashed through her with paralyzing clarity. April let out a strangled sound. The door rattled quietly in its frame as the creature burrowed through. Soon two tiny splits appeared at the base. April stared at it, a lump of indignation forming in her throat. No, goddammit. She was not going out like this. She balled the fist of her good hand and scrubbed at her eyes.  
  
Come on April, think. There must be something useful in here. She hurried to the mirrored cabinet. Ignoring the haunted face that stared back at her, she pulled the cabinet door open, frantically searching for a weapon. Deodorant, hair ties, a half-used tube of toothpaste. All of it useless.  
  
A flap of wood came loose and broke off. The beast’s snout pushed through. April’s hands grabbed the first thing within reach. The wastebasket. She snatched it up and hurled it at the creature’s head. The metal clanged against the door and the beast disappeared under a shower of facial tissues and empty toilet paper rolls.  
  
She looked back at the hole in the door, a hole now the size of a dinner plate.  
  
Where…?  
  
There was a quick flurry of motion as it darted across the tiled floor towards her bare feet. On reflex, she vaulted over its gaping maw, barely avoiding its needle teeth. The momentum sent her landing awkwardly against the bathtub, briefly entangling herself in the shower curtain. She cursed, tore herself free, and whirled around.  
  
The monster was less than a foot away, blocking the door. It arched its back and looked up at her with a kind of flat curiosity in its lidless eyes. Defiant, April glared back at it, feet apart, one fist clenched, the other limp and useless at her side.  
  
Without warning, the creature rammed into her stomach. April fell backward on impact, the base of her skull connecting with the towel rack above before sliding weakly to the floor. A constellation bloomed across her eyes. She released a long, pained groan and placed a hand to her head, then slumped boneless against the wall.  
  
A small, distant part of her mind was screaming at her to move—get off the floor! And while she had every intention of doing just that, she was suddenly bone tired, and all she really wanted to do was lie down on the cool tiles and take a nap.  
  
Something shifted out of the corner of her eye. She looked around woozily and saw the beast perched on the clothes hamper against the far wall, its claws curled around the lid, poised to strike.  
  
Every muscle in her body clenched in renewed fear. She snapped out of her frozen state and drunkenly tried to move her arms and sit up, but the floor was a swamp of blood and she was floundering around like an absurd game of Twister.  
  
She hazard a look over her shoulder. The creature stared back at her from its vantage point, the barbed hook on its tail twitching in anticipation. With a low moan, she redoubled her efforts and finally managed to crawl onto one knee, but then the bathroom pitched in a rough sea of nausea and she bent forward, gagging. Light-headed, numb with shock, she forced down the rolling lurch in her stomach and slowly dragged herself across the floor by her elbows, inch by painful inch. The creature craned its slender neck towards her, watching her labored progress. Grunting with exertion, she finally managed to wedge herself between the toilet and the bathtub, as far from the awful thing as she could get.  
  
April breathed heavily. Her head felt like a half-filled balloon barely joined to her neck. With glazed eyes, she watched the beast’s lethal form fill her vision as it slowly descended from its perch and advanced on her. With each step the horrid thing took, the room felt just a little smaller, as if the walls were shrinking closer together.  
  
She knew she only had one shot at this. If she failed, she would die. Her mind resolute, she gathered one leg under her in readiness.  
  
The monster wove a slow serpentine path, as if it had all the time in the world. April’s stomach coiled, ready for whatever came next. The distance between them tightened until it was finally within range. She snapped her arm out and wrenched the toilet brush from its holder. She leaned forward and swung it like a bat. The first swipe missed. Her reach too short. The creature hissed in a way that sounded strangely mocking and crept forward once more. April counted one, two, then swung again. The strike hit its mark, connecting with the mole-thing’s head and sending it flying into the tub. It landed on its back with a heavy _thunk_ but instantly flipped over onto its feet in a scrabble of claws and spitting fury that raked her eardrums.  
  
April briefly considered making a run for the door but rejected the idea. She’d never outrun it, not in her state. Resigned, she pushed herself up against the wall and waited. A split second later, it jumped onto the tub’s ledge.  
  
There was murder in its eyes.  
  
Her fingers clenched and unclenched the feeble weapon.  
  
The creature rocked back, gathering itself to pounce. April held her breath.  
  
It leapt.  
  
She screamed.  
  
But the leap was cut short. The beast’s forelegs raced futilely against empty air, then slowed. After a final spasmodic motion, its limbs ceased fluttering.  
  
The monstrosity was dead, its limp body impaled on Raphael’s sai.  
  
April looked up at him with wild eyes, her face tight and fierce. “What the hell took you so long?!” she sobbed in relief. The next sentence died in her throat when she saw the bloody welts crisscrossing his face. Raphael, ghastly pale, his forehead dotted with sweat, leaned down and took her elbow, helping her to her feet. April let drop the useless brush and folded against him gratefully, one hand gripping the outer edge of his shell to avoid slipping on the bloody tiles.  
  
He wrapped a steadying arm around her shoulder. “They’re everywhere,” he said by way of apology. April sucked in a breath and looked up at him in alarm. Something was off in his voice. It wavered around the edges, a vulnerable sound.  
  
“Raph?” she whispered. His face slid away, avoiding her searching look. He reached around to pry the carcass off his sai with forefinger and thumb, tossing it aside where it smacked wetly against the bathtub. It left a gory smear against the white enamel.  
  
Leonardo appeared over his brother’s shoulder. His bleak eyes met hers. “Sorry it took us so long,” he said. Behind him, Donatello leaned heavily against the doorframe, clutching at his right arm. His pale brown eyes blinked rapidly at the blood-stained floor before rising to meet hers. In the bedroom behind him, she saw an equally injured Michelangelo taking up watch by the window, nunchucks at the ready in each hand.  
  
April stared at them in dazed shock. They all looked so battered and bruised. Defeated. “What happened?” she breathed. Leo limped past his brothers and gently lifted her wounded arm, appraising the ragged holes in her skin. His cool fingers lightly prodded the bones underneath. April clenched her jaw to keep from crying out in pain. “Nothing broken,” he said, more to himself than her, “but you’ll need stitches.”  
  
She looked up at him with moist eyes. “Leo, _tell_ me.” She winced as she did so, the burgeoning headache now blossoming into an atomic cloud in her skull. She swayed back against Raphael who pressed a supporting hand against her back. She didn’t catch the worried glace he shared with his brother over her head.  
  
Leonardo grabbed a blue bath towel off the rack and started to carefully wrap her arm in it. “We don’t know,” he sighed. “A swarm of them attacked us at the lair. Splinter’s…” Leonardo swallowed thickly.  
  
She blinked hard. “What?”  
  
He said nothing, busying himself with the makeshift bandage. But his shoulders were slumped as if a great leaden weight was pushing them down. April watched him wordlessly. Seeing him like this shook her faith in her already delicate sense of reality. She wanted to reach out to him in that moment, hold him, as much for her sake as his, but she knew he wouldn’t allow for it.  
  
“Leo!” Michelangelo called out from the bedroom. “We’ve got incoming.”  
  
Leonardo nodded at Raphael, “You and Donny clear us a path to the roof.” Raphael gave him a cursory grunt and handed April off to him. Passing through the doorway, he gently tugged on Donatello’s shoulder. He got a mumbled response, something too low for April to hear, but Donatello allowed himself to be shepherded by the larger turtle back out into the hallway.  
  
April vined her hand around Leonardo’s bicep. She watched the brothers disappear around the corner with a strange detachment, as if she were viewing the world through the wrong end of someone’s binoculars. She faintly heard Leonardo call her name. There were other words too, but these she didn’t hear, only what was in his voice. The sound of it frightened her in ways she couldn’t articulate and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to be out of the cramped bathroom, to be anywhere but here.  
  
She waved him off with assurances she didn’t feel and stumble-walked into the bedroom towards Michelangelo who stood spotlighted in a sunbeam. He turned at her approach and gave her an anemic smile, one that didn’t match the rigid tension in his posture or the horrific bite marks on his shoulder.  
  
There was a commotion outside. She took a lumbering step forward, peeled back a corner of the lace curtain, and pressed her face to the glass. It took a moment for her to grasp what she was seeing. A man, sprawled in the middle of the street, writhing and screaming. April stared in dawning horror at the grisly scene below. A horde of those mole-things were eating him alive. His body gyrated under the thick weight of the feeding mass, his screams curling up and up, until they were abruptly cut off. April clamped her eyes shut, wanting it to be some kind of dream, a figment of her overwrought imagination.  
  
From all around the neighborhood came the frenzied sounds of shouts, shrieks, and sirens. And below the cacophony of noise, underneath it all, but somehow deafening in its terrifying implication, April heard another sound. One that turned her blood cold. Claws on concrete, an army of them, coming up the steps.  
  
With a stomach-dropping feeling, April turned to meet the end the world.


End file.
